Supply Problems
by swiftykenobi
Summary: Why did it take so long to build the Death Star? Poor Lord Vader! COMPLETED!
1. The First Death Star

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and that makes me sad. It all belongs to George Lucas.

Summary: I was watching ROTS with commentary, and George Lucas said something about the Death Star taking so long because of supply problems, so here is my take on it.

-----------------------------------------------

All that Darth Vader wanted to do was hang his head in his hands and go to sleep, but of course, his Master would have none of that. Lord Sidious had asked him to read through the files, and Vader had begrudgingly agreed, but now, only half an hour into it, he was bored and angry.

_Supply Problems._

_Contractors showing up late._

_Employees complaining about their wages._

_The Galactica500 blaster models, or the Empire2000TX models?_

_The food is lousy._

_The gravity shear is annoying._

_My hard hat itches._

The list went on and on, getting more and more ridiculous, and Darth Vader sighed...well, it sounded more like an asthmatic wheeze through his mask. There were countless more items on the list, but one caught his eye.

_Not enough nails._

Vader practically tore up the sheet right then and there. This time he really did put his head into his hands, but when he tried, his giant mask kept interfering with him being able to find a comfortable position for his head. He wheezed again (which was really a sigh).

_How could there not be enough nails? Does a Death Star even have nails? _The entire problem had been a complete nightmare since it had started. Never had Vader been involved in such a disastrous project, not even when he had been a Jedi. Not even that nest of Gundarks had been as bad as this entire Death Star ordeal. Not even _Ventress_ had been this insane, and that was certainly saying something.

Vader decided to take a walk to clear his head. He did not know what to do. He had never been the planning, problem-solving type. He had always left up the strategy and negotiating to Obi-Wan. Anger flared up in Vader's heart at the thought of Obi-Wan, but in the back of his mind, he could not help thinking that

_Stop it Vader! Obi-Wan is dead to you. _Besides, thought Vader, if Obi-Wan was here and there were contractor problems he would probably just solve the problem by leaving them limbless and flaming on some Hellish planet. _Yes, _thought Vader, _after all, that is how Obi-Wan decided to handle _our_ problems. _

Thinking about Obi-Wan only made Vader feel more angry. He decided to meditate, it had sometimes worked when he was a Jedi. He sat down on the floor, but when he tried to cross his legs, the clunky metal banged around, and he was not able to. Finally, he gave up and just sat in a chair, but that felt too much as though he were sitting for high tea, and so, our poor bad guy wandered aimlessly around for hours until he finally decided that standing while staring out into the stars would suffice.

As he meditated, his mind flashed on one of the other comments that he had read in the course of the day. _My hard had itches._ Vader wanted to scream, but he knew that in his new prison it may come out sounding more like a dying bantha. His_ hard hat itches? He doesn't have to wear this Sith-forsaken thing!_

Vader was so confused. He had thought that the construction of the Death Star would help take his mind off of everything that had happened, when in turn, it was all just a big disaster! The blasted thing was more problems than it was worth. Who cared if the thing would be able to blow up entire planets? Vader had always gone for the more subtle approach of the Force-choke. Certainly not as flashy as Force lightning, but just as effective. _Geez, I should have gone into marketing._

Sidious had always been the better one at the ostentatious types of death, whereas Vader thought of his own way as much more stylistic, more of an art form. After all, he had always appreciated art, just not the modern art that he saw all the time on Coruscant that had a black dot on a white canvas and sold for millions of credits...that never failed to get to him.

Vader wished that they could decorate the Death Star, but he knew that Lord Sidious would have none of that. After all, Sith Lords do not like art, right? Vader groaned. The more and more he got to know Sidious, the more he realized how boring he was, and he would never allow any show of disobedience from Vader. It was like being a Padawan all over again, except that Obi-Wan was not as uptight, nor as...scarred, as Sidious was.

The scars freaked Vader out. Every time he saw them he thought of Mace Windu, and of all of the Jedi, Mace Windu was not the one that Vader wanted to think about. Vader turned his mind back to the construction. _What do I do?_

_I can't just Force-choke every single construction crew in the Galaxy, but why do they all have to be such idiots? _Vader was getting sick of this entire Death Star thing.

_A fully armed and operational machine that can destroy entire planets. It will make the rebels run for cover. _That was what Sidious had told Vader. _Whoo-hoo_, Vader thought. _Did I really just say whoo-hoo in my mind?_ He shuddered. Sith weren't supposed to say whoo-hoo!

_Pull yourself together Anakin...Vader! Geez. Vader. Vader. Vader. Invader. Later. Traitor. Faker. AGHHHHH!_ Vader rubbed a gloved hand over his smooth and hard helmet. He was only confusing himself. But the word traitor stuck in his mind for the rest of the day.

Just wanting to get away from all of these people and the entire disastrous project, Vader tried to go to sleep, but it eluded him. Finally, he just got too frustrated for words. He did not even want to hear the words _Death Star_ ever again. He wanted to get out before he bumped into Lord Sidious, unfortunately, luck was not on our favorite bad guy's side today.

As Vader walked out the door, Lord Sidious came around the corner of the hall. "Lord Vader!" Vader tried to walk quickly and pretend that he had not heard the other Sith lord. All that Vader could think every time that he looked at Sidious was _Botox...he needs botox...bo..tox!_

"Lord Vader!" Sidious shouted again, this time with a bit more anger. Vader could not ignore him for much longer. "Lord Vader, have you finished reading the construction reports?"

"Yes, my Lord." Vader said, trying to avoid eye contact...wait...eye contact? He was wearing a mask for Force sakes!

"And...?" Lord Sidious eagerly looked at his apprentice.

Vader gulped. "Well, my Lord, it going...well...there have been some minor difficulties." He could not lie to Sidious...he always knew.

Sidious went into a rage. He threw things, force-lightening things, and then, he tripped over his own cloak, slightly destroying the entire effect of the temper tantrum. "NO, NO, NO! (reminiscent of a no, no, no scene in ROTS)!"

Vader decided just to wait out the tantrum. Usually, Sidious could work himself up so much that he would collapse and Vader could make a run for it...or, well, he could clunk quickly along the hallway in his suit in any case.

Finally, Sidious sank to the ground. "Lord Vader...comm every contractor in the galaxy. I want that treaty signed! I mean, I want that Death Star built!"

Vader groaned. "And what of the failures my Lord?"

Sidious's wrinkles twitched. "Wipe them out. All of them."

_I should have known. He needs to get some new lines. _"Yes my Master."

Vader took off down the hallway. As he gazed out into the stars, at the disastrous hunk of metal hanging in the sky, he decided that he might as well just get the comm-making over with. He picked up the galactic comm book and began his work.

It was painstaking work. Vader got stuck on hold countless times, each playing the same bad music, and when someone finally picked up, they all complained that they could not understand him. Apparently, his mask was creating to much feedback over the comm. _How dare they treat a Sith Lord like this?_

Vader just wanted to rage and scream for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He gave up on the comming, and found a quiet room to sit and think, where Sidious would not be able to find him. But when he sat down, he heard a terrible scraping noise, like nails on a chalkboard...or perhaps just nails. He leapt up. When he finally took a look around the room, he saw thousands of nails scattered everywhere.

His backside would have been bleeding terribly if it were not for his metal underwear/suit. _Well, I truly have learned something new today. Death Stars really do have nails, and I just found them. How the Force did they get in here?_

Vader did not want to ponder it any longer. He was tired and sick of all of this. When he looked at his suit, the nails had scratched it all up and completely designed the scary effect of his metal butt. Vader could not take anymore of this. He laid down, ignoring the scratching of the nails, and went to sleep.

His last thought before going to sleep was, _At this rate, it will take twenty years to finish this Force-forsaken project._

Oh, now our dear favorite bad guy, strap in. You have no idea how right you are.

The End.

-----------------------------------------------

A/N I know that this didn't really have a plot, but I'm still working on improving my humorous Fic writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading it, and feedback is always appreciated!

Quick Update: I know I said that this was the end, but I ended up writing another chapter to it...hope you enjoy!


	2. The Second Death Star

A/N: Ok, so I know that I said that the first chapter was the end, but the reviews that I got just made me so happy that I had to do another. This time, it really is the end (for our dear favorite bad guy in any case).

-----------------------------

Twenty years had passed. Darth Vader reflected on the years that had gone by. Now, normally, our favorite bad guy would not reflect on the past, but it was just this morning when his Empire had come crashing down upon him.

Try as he might, Vader had tried his absolute hardest not to think about the entire Death Star disaster, but just this morning, Lord Sidious had approached him. Now, Vader had long given up on the idea of botox for Sidious, but he had just yesterday been reading about a new all natural wrinkle treatment. Apparently, there was a mix of muja fruit extract and natural taun-taun oil that was supposed to cure wrinkles in a flash...granted, it was really a cellulite cream, but Vader was sure that it could work anywhere.

But that's beside the point. The galaxy had fallen on poor Vader's head just that morning. _I suppose it's a good thing that I have to wear this Force forsaken helmet. _Lord Sidious had approached Vader and told him the news..._the _news. The news that made Darth Vader, the most feared man in the galaxy, dark lord of the Sith, crumble inside.

_Nnooooooooo! _All of the maturity, all of the evilness that Vader had been building up over the years disintegrated in an instant. _A second Death Star_. It was the bane of Darth Vader's very existence. The twenty years of Hell working on the first one had almost killed him, and now...another one?

Lord Sidious had shown Vader the designs just this morning, and Vader had rather thought that the new Death Star looked like a deranged Pac-Man. _I _cannot_ believe that he would do this to me. Haven't I been through enough? I've Force-choked enough people these last twenty years to fill an entire planet. _

Vader rocked back and forth, trying to feel the dark side flow through him. The events of the past year had been entirely exhausting. He had killed Obi-Wan, which he tried every day not to think about, but his thoughts always came back to it. He had never imagined that his former Master could look so...old.

_Stop it..._Vader had vowed not to think about Obi-Wan. But the other events of the times were not things that Vader wanted to dwell upon either. It was now Vader's sole resolve in life to get his revenge upon that son of a Sith (A/N Quite literally indeed, huh?), Luke Skywalker.

He hated that scrawny farm boy with every fiber of his being...well...with every wire in his mechanical limbs in any case. But he did not hate the skinny, high pitched voice, whiny boy for the reasons that everyone thought. He did not hate him for being a rebel, or for being short, or for being trained by Obi-Wan...

He hated him for blowing up the first Death Star. After all of the pain, toils, trails and tribulations _Geez, trails and tribulations? That's almost as bad as whoo-hoo...what kind of Sith uses a clichéd term like trials and tribulations? _Where was he? Oh yeah, after all of the trials and tribulations _stop it..._ of the first Death Star, THAT -**censored to maintain K+ rating-** SON OF A -**again, censored!- **HE CAN GO TO -**my, my Darth, does someone need anger management?- **TELL FARM BOY TO GO -**Ahem! Erm...perhaps we should just find another topic of conversation until he calms down...wasn't the weather lovely today? That meteor shower was just lovely!- **... -**(looks at Darth shocked. Waves finger in a very schoolmasterish fashion)-**

Vader tried to calm himself. But really, the first Death Star had almost caused Vader numerous heart attacks and ulcers, and when it FINALLY was completed, it was blown up, along with all of Darth Vader's hopes and dreams of ever having peace. All of the sudden, our poor bad guy wished upon a star that he could somehow go back in time and fix it all.

The thought of going through all of it again made Vader want to throw up, but in his mask, that was truly not a good idea. Vader was left more scarred from the first Death Star project than he had been after Mustafar. Not only had the stress level caused him to long for a day at the spa, but he had sent his suit to numerous businesses, but none were able to fix the scratches from the nails. Vader had had to resort to coloring over the scratches with sharpies, which truly did not look very terrifying.

Vader had finally learned to be comfortable. He could stride powerfully along in his suit, and he never tried to meditate sitting down anymore. He had become a truly feared being across the Empire, and he was a symbol of power to beings across the galaxy.

But they did not know of his true fears. The fears that manifested themselves deep in his metal underwear… _Force that sounded dirty. I was thinking more along the lines of the second Death Star...(insert involuntary shudder)._ How could Sidious do this to him? Why?_ No! NO! It can't be! It's impossible! _(hmm, was that ESB Empire Strikes Back, not ESP deja'vu?)

Where would Vader even begin? He still found himself unwillingly humming the music that the contracting companies had played when they had put him on hold, even to this day it was stuck deep in his head. _This time I will do it right._ Vader made it his firm resolve. The second Death Star_ would not_ be the disaster that the first one was.

The first thing that Lord Vader did was order nails...lots and lots of nails. And he made _sure_ that the suppliers knew the consequences of delivering them to the wrong place. He firmly warned them that he would go easy on them, but Lord Sidious (though slightly more cracked over the years), was still powerful, and his Force lightning had gotten brighter and more..._electric_ over time.

But what should his next step be? He needed a _good, reliable_ contractor this time around. And preferably a sober one. The last inebriated contractor that the Sith had tried had been a complete and utter disaster. Finally, he called up Boba. Bounty hunters always knew the right guys for any job.

Now, Vader felt good. Everything was going well so far, and he was showing them who's boss. _Now what? Of course, Lunch time._ Vader always preferred to eat alone so that he could remove his mask without the entire staff staring at him. He went to his quarters with his tray, and entered his egg-thing where he conducted all of his most serious business (again, that was not meant to have a dirty implication of any kind).

-----------------------------

The weeks passed, and he felt better than ever. Everything was going according to plan. When he had spoken to Lord Sidious about it, the man had been so happy, his wrinkles had twitched with such joy it made Vader feel queasy.

Vader found himself walking with a new spring in his step. He felt young and refreshed. His days were going better than ever. He was on his Master's good side, he hadn't had to Force-choke anyone in weeks, and he had tried out a new mouthwash, so that when his breath bounced back to him inside his mask, it felt minty-fresh and cool.

In short, Lord Vader was ready to take on the world. He would often pour over the designs and he found himself growing fond of the darn thing. Days were looking brighter, and Vader received word that the rebel base on Hoth had recently been discovered. _Finally! Farm Boy will pay for destroying my first Death Star! He will pay for my twenty years of discord and strife!_

Soon enough, the frame for the Second Death Star was built, and progress was going smoothly and quickly. The only problem was that the entire thing seemed to be going _too smoothly_. _Stop it Vader, you're hallucinating. There is no such thing as something going _too_ smoothly. _

_Stop it Lord Vader! You are a Sith! Things are supposed to go smoothly!_ But of course, all good things must come to an end, and for our favorite bad guy, he was no exception.

As he was strolling down the way to check the progress of the construction, a scared and weary-looking worker came up to Vader. "Um...excuse me...Lord Vader?" The worker shuffled his feet and avoided eye contact with Vader.

Vader rolled his eyes. "Yes?"

"Well..." the worker stammered, "There has been a...small...well...not really small...um...problem?"

Vader felt like he had knocked into a brick wall. _A problem? Oh Force, please no! _His knees felt weak and he began to feel faint.

"Please, Lord Vader. There was a small problem with the nails that we used. Apparently, they are the wrong size and the whole structure could collapse any second. We have evacuated everyone and we needed you to tell us what we should...um...do about it."

Vader had stopped listening the moment that the worker had said the words _nails. Nails? Nails? Oh, Force, please, I beg you! I am sorry that I killed the younglings. I am sorry that I destroyed the Jedi! Oh I am sorry, but please, Oh, oh please! Not nail problems. _

Vader simply stood there, wobbling in his armor, not knowing what to say or do. Of all of the things that could happen to him...it had to be the nails. Just when the galaxy was beginning to look up for our favorite bad guy, just when things were a little more sunny, just when he had discovered his new fresh breath, just when he had not had to Force-choke anyone in a long while...and then it all comes crashing down. The light in the world flickers out, the breath becomes bad again, the Force-choke becomes a regular activity, and life suddenly becomes not worth living.

Farm Boy has won.

The rebels have one.

It was the wrong kind of nails, and because of that, our dear favorite bad guy would now face his demise.

Oh how cruel the galaxy is.

The End. (For real).

-----------------------------

Another A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This story made me so happy when I was writing it. I love Darth Vader, but after everything he's done, it's fun to torture him just a little bit! Anyway, again, thanks for reading and feedback is most appreciated! --Swifty


End file.
